


The Pinch

by skarletfyre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: BDSM, Exhaustion, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Predicament Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy finds himself not so much between a rock and a hard place as between a task that requires concentration, and a problem that makes concentration impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pinch

**Author's Note:**

> it's occurred to me that despite my interests, i've never really written a bondage scene before. so this is an attempt.

Spy was naked in the middle of the Engineer's workshop.

This is not unusual, of course. In fact, his own naked body has become somewhat of a fixture in the stocky Texan's life over the last few months, one that he is quite proud to maintain and show off. He enjoyed the nights of dress up, in fine suits or frilly underthings or filthy, humiliating rags. He liked putting on a show, or even better, being put on display. Best of all he liked serving a function. Used for manual labour or sexual pleasure, or set some faux, unachievable task only to be punished for his failure, it didn't matter. Spy loved it all. He loved to be useful, and to prove his usefulness through display. Tonight he served a simple function, but an important one all the same.

Engineer stood on the upper rungs of a tall stepping stool, a pair of needle-nose pliers in his gloved hands as he worked with the knot of multicolored wires exposed in the ceiling. Spy stood obediently beside him, holding the heavy tray of tools within reach for him in one hand. The other hand held a ten pound dumbbell, to better distribute weight and help him keep his balance. Spy had thought it a burden at the start, but now he saw that it was very much a kindness.

He stood uncomfortably on the balls of his bare feet on the cold cement floor, without a stitch of clothing on him. Even his mask had been stripped from him by the Engineer's thick, precise fingers before the beginning of the session, as it had been only several times before. Now the only thing on Spy's person was a leather collar, worn soft on the inside from repeated use, a tarnished O ring dangling from the front, and the pair of cuffs around his ankles, tied loosely together to stop him from running off. Not that he could have, in his current predicament, but there was something to be said for decorum.

Then, of course, the was the chain.

A ten foot length of industrial stainless steel chain ran between his legs, up his chest and back, and affixed securely to a hook in the main support rafter. The metal had been cold at first, very cold, but had warmed to his body temperature the longer it was in contact with his skin. Quite close contact, in fact. If he were to try and stand flat on the floor, all of his weight would be on the thick chain, and on his pelvis. That was the absolute last thing he wanted.

The chain rode up snugly between the cheeks of his ass and cleaved divisively between his testicles, stretching one to either side of the metal links. His cock hung heavily to the left, mercifully spared the same symmetrical treatment as the rest of him. There was already enough discomfort to bear for one night.

Spy was under strict orders not to move. His job was to stand there and hold the tools so that the Engineer could complete his work. Every time he moved, Engineer would stop what he was doing, replace whatever tool he was holding on the tray, climb down from the ladder, and reach into the deep front pocket of his overalls. From the pocket, he would produce a wooden clothespin, which would then be placed somewhere on Spy's body.

It was a punishment for disobedience as well as a sort of tally system. The clothespins would be counted at the end of the session. So far as he knew there wouldn't be any further punishment if the number was too high, but the visual proof of his failures would be bad enough.

Already there was a clothespin pinched to the skin of his navel, and one affixed to his left nipple. Both were manageable; he barely felt the one on his belly button. But putting them on was almost irrelevant; taking them _off_ would be the real payoff. The pins pinched and restricted blood flow to his sensitive skin, and when they were removed the blood would come rushing back with a unique and wholly delightful sensation.

But then there was another pinch, one that Spy had _not_ counted on, and one that he was certainly not delighting in at all.

Between his legs, the steel chain had long since warmed to his body heat. The chill was gone and yet the discomfort remained, not that he ever expected it to be comfortable to have a length of chain wedged up the crack of his ass. But where the metal rode up the softest parts of him, the thin, delicate skin between his scrotum and his anus, two links of chain had decided to make his life a living hell.

The pain was of the sharp and throbbing persuasion. A miniscule amount of skin was caught between the loops of metal, not enough to cause any medical concern but enough for it to consume all of Spy's carefully maintained focus. Every time he tried to give his shaking legs a break and lower himself onto his feet, the pain of the pinch lanced through him and had him jolting upward again. But every time he extended himself onto the balls of his feet, pushing upward and relieving some of his weight from the chain, the more likely he was to wobble. And wobbling counted as moving.

Forty minutes in, Spy was sweating profusely.

His calves were burning. His thighs twitched and trembled beneath him, threatening to cramp at any moment. His left foot _was_ cramping, and he had to close his eyes and hold his breathe to work through the pain of that. His arms were in marginally better shape. They weren't shaking as badly, at least. When he caught himself letting them droop under the weights he was holding, it took a few moments of slowly and stealthily raising them back into position before the Engineer noticed his mistake. The Texan appeared to be genuinely absorbed in his wire-working, which didn't surprise Spy in the least. When Engineer did look at him, a quick assessing glance to make sure everything was in order, Spy wanted to look his best.

But the pinch was making it difficult to focus. The pain of it was all-consuming, sapping all of his focus and attention and concentrating it on easing the sting between his cheeks.

Spy ignored the tremors in his legs and tried to slowly push upward onto his toes. There wasn't much higher he could go without loosing his balance completely, but he had to try. He had to get his weight off the chain and hopefully dislodge the tender bit of skin trapped there. If he was careful, and quiet, and slow...

The largest muscle of his right thigh spasmed alarmingly, and Spy sucked in a sharp gasp as he dropped an inch and a half to one side. The links of chain pinched cruelly as he fought to recover his balance with minimal fuss. But it was too late. The tray in his hand tilted. A tool rolled, or slid, and hit the edge of the tray with a metallic clink.

From up on the ladder, the Engineer paused in his work.

He looked down at Spy from behind his dark goggles. The lines on his forehead became more pronounced as he frowned, catching the final moments of Spy's desperate attempts to right himself. He set his pliers on the top step of the ladder.

“You holdin' up alright, darlin'?”

He would stop this, if Spy said something. As soon as Spy said something, and Spy knew that. The words could leave his mouth and seconds later he would be unburdened and let down and wrapped in a warm, comforting embrace. It would be waiting for him, always, at the end of whatever he was made to endure.

He could endure it for a little while longer.

“ _Oui,”_ Spy chirped as he fully regained his balance. The entire area between his thighs was throbbing with pain, his legs were threatening to give out beneath him, and his shoulders were fairly screaming in protest – they hadn't hurt before, but moving had unlocked whatever force was keeping the ache at bay. His dark hair was damp with sweat and sticking to the back of his neck.

The Engineer began to climb down from the ladder.

For a moment Spy feared – hoped? – that the man had seen through the thin mask of his composure and was going to end this session prematurely. But then he saw the gloved hand slipping into the pocket of the Texan's overalls, and knew that it would not be over so soon after all.

“Open your mouth,” Engineer ordered, and Spy did as he was told. “Stick out your tongue.”

Spy took a deep, steady breath as the clothespin pinched shut on the tip of his tongue. This time the pain was very negligible at the start, more of a pressure than anything, but he knew from experience that it would hurt more and more the longer it stayed on. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise; a new sensation to distract him.

The Engineer took a moment to check that the pin was secure, wiggling it and Spy's tongue between his fingers. Satisfied, he stepped back and returned to his ladder. He selected a new tool from the tray beside him and went back to work.

Spy lost track of time somewhere around the seven minute mark from then on. Was it ten that had passed, or fifteen? Could it have been twenty minutes? That didn't seem right. It didn't seem like it mattered.

He wanted to shift. He very, very badly wanted to shift his weight to one side or the other, if only for a moment. If only to try again to dislodge the poor, trapped skin that was making all of this so much harder than it ever needed to be.

The clothespin on his tongue was not providing enough stimulation to distract him after all. It required him to keep his mouth hanging open, however, and the drool currently leaking down his chin added a new level of humiliation and indignity to his predicament. He could bite down on the pin, which could give him some relief. Or it may give him nothing, except an excuse for his master to add another clothespin elsewhere.

Truthfully, Spy didn't know how much more he could take of this.

It was his idea. His wish to be put to work, to be made useful. To be used to serve the needs of another for the evening in whatever capacity was required of him. Engineer could have taken advantage of his desires and _really_ put him to work, scrubbing floors or hauling scrap back and forth across the base, or _he_ could have been the one up on the ladder, struggling with the wiring while the Engineer shouted instructions at him and flogged him for his mistakes or for taking too long.

But tonight, all Spy was required to do was _stand still,_ and he appeared incapable of doing even that.

He was exhausted. Spy couldn't remember the last time he'd been this tired. Every cell in his body had been sapped of its strength and willpower alone was the only thing keeping him upright anymore. Will, and the fear that if he allowed himself to relax into the pinch that he may end up doing lasting damage to himself. His erection had not simply flagged; it was entirely gone. If there was to be any further play in store for the night, Spy would have to be a very passive participant. He didn't even have the strength to keep his eyes fully open anymore.

“That oughta do it,” the Engineer exclaimed, when the safeword was on the tip of Spy's tongue. The shorter man grinned down at his from his perch, but his expression faded quickly into concern. He pushed his goggles onto his forehead. “You had enough?”

Spy nodded, if it could be called that. He head dropped forward and jerked back upright, sending a painful twinge down his neck. The Engineer did not ask for further explanation.

The first thing to go was the chain. Still on the ladder, Engineer leaned out and quickly unhooked it from the ceiling. The relief was immediate.

Spy let out a choked little noise when the pinching links of chain finally fell away from his raw and tender skin. Engineer was off the ladder in a flash, getting the metal away from him and whisking the tray and weight out of his hands. Spy heard them clatter somewhere off to the side, and then he was going down.

“Easy now,” the Texan murmured, catching him as he legs finally gave out. “Easy, easy, darlin', I got ahold of you... You did good, Spy, you did real good tonight. I'm gonna take the pins off ya now, is that alright?”

Spy huffed something that he hoped sounded affirmative enough. He was on the verge of unconsciousness, soaking up the body heat from the man so kindly holding him up when all he wanted to do was fall down. This was why he did this. Why he put himself through so much, and pushed so hard at his own limits and boundaries. This simple feeling of being held and praised was the reward that made everything worth it in the end.

The clip on his tongue was the first to go. Spy licked his chapped lips to little effect. His tongue itself was dry as well, and very sore. He hoped he wouldn't need to use it any time soon. The clothespin on his nipple was removed next and Spy jolted at the feeling. He jolted again at the overstimulation as the Engineer's thick and callused thumb massaged circles into the aching little nub to work the pain away faster. The pin attached to his navel felt coming off about as much as it did going on – that is to say, he hardly felt it. A kindness, truly.

“God dangit, Spy,” Engineer was saying, checking him over for any unintended marks or injuries as he removed both the collar and cuffs. “You're s'posed to tell me when you've had enough, before you end up like this. How are you feelin'? Anything you need me to do or say, or get for you?”

The man's words were damning, but his tone was gentle. Spy would have to tell him, one day, how much all of this meant.

“Take me to bed,” he said instead. Any other time he would have been shocked by the faintness of his own voice. Tonight, he was simply surprised he managed to speak at all. The Engineer sighed.

“Alrighty then. Come on, up ya go.”

Spy felt as though he was floating. The Texan hefted him easily in his strong arms, cradling his naked body to his chest as they crossed the workshop to the little makeshift bedroom that had been partitioned off. He was lowered slowly onto the mattress, and a moment later there were soft, wonderfully heavy blankets being pulled over him. Spy hummed in contentment. His body still ached and stung in places, his muscles still burned, and his mouth was very dry, but at the very least he was warm now.

“I'm gonna go get some water,” the Engineer's voice said, sounding very far away. Spy was briefly aware of a hand on his forehead, smoothing his sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, and then the pull of sleep became too strong to resist.

“ _Merci,”_ he murmured, before drifting away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> the scenario is inspired by a video i watched ages and ages ago and probably couldn't find again if i tried. all i really remember was it was just like 10 minutes of a woman standing alone in the room with a chain holding her up and stopping her from standing flat on her feet, and at the end she sat wrapped in a blanket and explained cheerfully that the reason she squirmed so much was that the chain was pinching her
> 
> idk something about it stuck with me so i have blatantly copied it i guess haha


End file.
